Christmas Kiss (Evergreen Family Tree Farm #2)

Chapter One

Mira

If one more person tells me that the internet isn’t the right place to meet men, I’m going to lose it.

Of course, the internet isn’t the best place to meet men. If anyone knows that, it’s me. I’ve spent the better part of two years dating men I met online. Little by little, I’ve learned my lessons the hard way.

If he says he’s tall, he’s probably shorter than me. If he claims to be buff, he’s probably talking about the color. If he says he’s got a great job, he probably means he just got promoted to head gas station attendant. At least that’s been the case in the past.

This time is different, though. I’ve been talking to ‘ The Wolverine’ for the last six months. At first, it wasn’t anything serious. We were just friends. He was giving me advice about the last guy I brought home, and he subsequently dried my electronic tears when it turned out that guy was a complete flake. Since then, our relationship has shifted to something more, which is probably why my friend Emma is looking at me with pursed lips and narrowed eyes at the moment.

She, like everyone else, thinks they know best. “I love you, Mira. That’s all I’m saying. I love you.”

“Your I love you sounds an awful lot like you’re a dumbass. ”

“Well, that too, but I still love you.”

I pout my lips playfully, knowing she doesn’t mean it seriously, though even in jest it stings.

“Whatever! You dated that guy last year, the one with the unibrow, the sociopath, and you thought he was a catch. I even think I remember something about him having an Oscar Mayer wiener car. Everyone hated him, but I tried to see the best in him… for you.”

“You’re right. I’m sorry. Tell me all about your perfect guy.” Her tone is sarcastic, but I’ll take it.

I chew the inside of my cheek and stare at my friend with a playful scowl. We met our freshman year of college in Psychology 101. It turns out, Psychology 101 is a hell of a lot of fun to take with a sarcastic partner in crime. We spent way too many hours laughing about the professor’s use of the ‘distracted boyfriend’ meme. Apparently, it hits us all in the right existential feels. “I really think this one is perfect, like no joke.”

“Okay,” she sighs and twists her dark red hair back away from her face. “What’s different about this guy?”

“He listens. He like, really listens and responds… thoughtfully.”

She rolls her eyes. “They all do that. It’s this bait and switch thing that happens. They’re nice, compassionate, and thoughtful until they fuck you and then bam… captain dismissive asshole makes a return appearance once again.”

“You poor broken thing. We really need to find you a decent boyfriend.”

“No. No. No.” She shakes her head dramatically. “You’re missing the point. I don’t need a boyfriend. I’m convincing you that you don’t need one either.”

“And what’s the plan with that? Are we supposed to spend our lives alone? Maybe we’ll invest in a dozen ant farms and watch them create societies we know we could never live in?”

“Why do you need to do what society thinks you should? Maybe men and women aren’t meant to be together. I mean, look at all the marriages that end in divorce. I think it’s over fifty percent now.” She stands with me at the counter, grabbing travel mugs down from the cupboard. “All I’m saying is that life would be easier if we all didn’t have some grandiose expectation that marriage, kids, and a white picket fence were part of the deal.”

I stand and bite the inside of my cheek as I make my way toward the coffee maker to help her make our to-go cups. “You’re worse off than I thought. This is going to require a major rewiring. Most adult men aren’t horny teenagers who are just in it for sex. A lot of men want the same thing we want—to love and be loved.”

Emma lets out a sigh as I pour the hot coffee into the cups. “Well, I’ll believe it when I see it. What’s this ‘Wolverine’ guy look like? Please tell me he’s the spitting image of Hugh Jackman. Then, and only then, will I give you my blessing,” she says with a laugh.

My brows raise and I pinch my lips between my teeth. “It doesn’t matter what he looks like. It’s our connection that matters. Besides,” I top off her mug and set the coffee back onto the hot plate, “I should probably get to work. Gabe is being such a pain the ass lately. He put me on wreaths eight hours straight yesterday.” I glance down at my hands. “My fingers were numb from rolling the balsam. I think he hates me.” I realize I’m rambling about nonsense, and that I avoided Emma’s question all together, but that was the plan.

“Umm… girlie. You skipped right over what this guy looks like.”

“I know.” I glare toward Emma and pop the top on both our coffees.

“Okay,” she laughs. “Why did you skip my question? Does this dude look like Hugh Jackman or not?” Her head hangs low. “Mira, you know if he’s a trainwreck on paper, it’s going to be worse in person.”

“It’s not a trainwreck… yet,” I mumble.

“What are you doing? Just tell me what he looks like. Better yet, show me a picture.”

“It doesn’t matter what he looks like. He’s nice to me and he shows up for me.”

She laughs. “He does not show up for you. He’s a guy online. There’s virtually no effort in that. The biggest commitment he has is to type a response when he has time. That’s not the same as showing up for you.” Her tone gets more and more serious as she talks, almost as though she’s telling me something I don’t already understand.

“It’s more than that. When I’m sad, he sends me my favorite song, or he calls and we spend hours talking, doing Q&A’s, or watching movies. I sit with him in his pocket some days when he works. There’s nothing we don’t know about each other.”

“Without video?”

“Without video,” I repeat, a little annoyed at this point. I get that everyone is looking out for me, but I hate that they think I’m dumb or something. “There’s sincerity in his voice, Emma. I know he’s for real.”

She rolls her eyes and grabs her bag off the kitchen counter. “I have to get to work. You need to get this guy's picture. Please. Don’t give any more of yourself to someone you don’t even know.”

“It doesn’t matter what he looks like! I already told you that.”

“It does, though. It does. I’ve played Q&A with you too, and I know you have a very specific type you’re into. If this dude is eighty pounds with a mouth full of rotted teeth, you’re going to be disappointed.”

“I would know if his teeth were rotted out.”

“Would you?”

“Yes! He’d talk funny.”

“What does he sound like?”

I grab my coffee mug off the counter and flick the light off in the kitchen as I head out the front door. “Wouldn’t you love to know?”

“Oh please. You’re going to tell me he sounds like some deep voiced god, because you’re delusional right now, and we both know it. So, just say it so I can get to work.”

I glance toward Emma and shake my head with a grin. “I’m going to look into support groups for you.”

“Don’t need one,” she hollers back, “but I’ll look up some for you.”

I roll my eyes and laugh under my breath as a buzz rings in on my phone. I’m hoping it’s Wolverine , but it’s my boss, Gabe.

Gabe: I need you in my office now.

Well, my morning just keeps getting better and better! What else can go wrong? Keep Reading FREE IN KU